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The comic theologian: Robin Williams 'helped us to see the difficult truths about life' (Commentary)

Robin Williams

FILE - In this July 29, 2013 file photo, actor Robin Williams participates in the "The Crazy Ones" panel at the 2013 CBS Summer TCA Press Tour at the Beverly Hilton Hotel in Beverly Hills, Calif. The Nielsen company said Friday, Sept. 27, 2013, that Williams’ new CBS comedy, “The Crazy Ones,” debuted before 15.6 million people on Thursday night. It competed directly at 9 p.m. Eastern with “The Michael J. Fox” on NBC, which was seen by 7.2 million people. (Photo by Frank Micelotta/Invision/AP, File)
(Frank Micelotta)

Despite his personal encounter with the darkness, Williams’ message is an affirmation of life and a challenge for all to live it to the fullest.

The Rev. Michael Heath lives in Fayetteville.

By Michael Heath

In trying to respond to the horrible news of Robin Williams' death, I'm struck by his theological significance. Only George Carlin could come close to his stature or brilliance. I think Williams was a theologian because, through his humor and dramatic skills, he helped us to see difficult truths about life. He didn't claim to have a revelation from God but he did engage unanswered and often taboo questions we have about God. In so doing, he freed us up to do so as well.

Although he was an amazing comedian, the very essence of his humor sprung from the radioactive core of his (our) psyche. He was blessed (or cursed) with having a direct portal to his id, that raw and uncivilized energy of life which culture erects barriers to block out. When I think about how many other great comedians have suffered with depression and substance abuse, I can't help but think that there is a connection between their talent and spending too much time in touch with the fascinans tremendum,, i.e. that holy and unfiltered encounter with life's mysterious reality.

There is no doubt that, clinically, Williams suffered from depression and addictions. Nonetheless, his disorders in no way impugned the truth of the vision he saw. In fact, it may have been that horrible vision, transmuted by comic genius, that made his humor so memorable. He was not afraid to take on cultural icons or to make fun of traditional expectations. He stunned us not only with the speed of his wit but also by the daring of his stream-of-consciousness humor. His comic routines put out for all to see the moment-to-moment processes of the human mind. He helped us to feel normal by portraying how irreverent and skeptical human thoughts can be. He was not afraid to lampoon even the most sacred of our culture's beliefs and traditions. Although he was often raw, his vision was a light that pierced that darkness and revealed uncomfortable truths about ourselves and about life.

The holy darkness that Williams and other creative people encounter is complex. The unembellished truth about life is that it is not sweetness and light but, instead, the stuff of suffering, death and meaninglessness. Williams' death reminds me of the passage in the Bible, Exodus 33:20: "But He said, 'You cannot see My face, for no man can see Me and live!' " or in "Moby Dick,'' where Ishmael gazes into the fiery cauldron and sees the design of the universe but realizes that he should not stare too long into the inferno, lest he go mad. Perhaps great comics, like many artists, stare too long and pay a terrible price. We benefit from their sacrifice and, through humor, we can safely experience life's unvarnished and uncensored reality.

While being one of the greatest comedians ever, the depth and range of his dramatic roles were also a lasting gift. The teacher he played in the "Dead Poet's Society'' portrayed the best of what an educator can be: iconoclastic, challenging and inspirational. The therapist he played in "Good Will Hunting'' revealed his understanding of and compassion for humanity. The DJ he played in "Good Morning, Vietnam'' expressed in satirical outrage how a nation trapped in an insane war felt.

Despite his personal encounter with the darkness, Williams' message is an affirmation of life and a challenge for all to live it to the fullest. This powerful scene in Dead Poets Society captures his spirt best: Williams tells his students that "we don't read and write poetry because it's cute, we read and write poetry because we are members of the human race." Quoting Walt Whitman's "O Me! O Life!," "the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse." Williams then turns to his students and asks "What will your verse be?"

Robin Williams' greatness and impact is so huge that it's hard to immediately appreciate it all. It's going take awhile to realize the immensity of his contributions and fully realize all that we have lost. It is ironically comforting how death also presents us with opportunities to remember and appreciate anew the insights and lessons that great people have contributed to our wealth of knowledge. We'll miss you.